No Rest for the Wicked
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When his dreams are plagued by the ghosts of ex-wives one, two, AND three, what does a visit to esteemed sleep therapist, Dr. Charolotte Dickens reveal? ELEVEN chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: My co-author and I would like to announce that our core stories (Sunday and Monday weekly publications) will be on hiatus for the weekend after Thanksgiving (an American Holiday on November 25, 2010). Due to familial obligations, we do believe there will be a week break on those ongoing stories. We will continue to publish one-shots and shorter stories through the holiday week.**

**Also, we're drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****SIX**** DAYS LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and ****VOTE**** for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

**Want to win some free Christmas cash? We're giving away a $5 Amazon gift card to the 200th voter in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds ****Fanfic. net**** Awards (funded by the moderators). We have well over one hundred voters already, so who knows...you could be the 200th and win the awesome Amazon card!**

**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

**We also have a new interview with fellow author, Laurella. Please check it out.**

**And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you!**

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter One**

Yawning widely as he paced the small examination room of his childhood friend's office, David Rossi shook his head. Damn it, Noah had better have some freaking answers before he lost what was left of his mind.

And unfortunately for him, that moment was rapidly approaching.

It had been over three weeks since he'd had a decent night's sleep. Twenty-one days. Five hundred and four hours. Too freaking long! Glaring at the closed door to his own personal torture chamber cum exam room, he heard the muffled sounds of conversation in the hallway, Dr. Noah Faulkner's deep timbre familiar to him. _Come on, Noah. Get in here and give me the newest wonder pill._

Exhaling a relieved breath as the short man's portly frame bustled in, Dave muttered with a glare, "About time, Noah. Moss was growing under my feet in here, man."

"Still no more patient than you were the last time I saw you..."

"...three weeks ago," Dave retorted grimly, nailing the good doctor with a pointed stare. "Those little Ambien pills you gave me aren't doing the trick, Noah. I'm still not resting."

Raising one eyebrow, Noah asked, his best professional voice in place, "Not sleeping or not resting, Davey? There's a distinct difference."

"Well, the pill gets me to sleep," Dave admitted sheepishly, leaning back against the black exam table, "but, I'm still having the damned dreams...so I don't _feel_ like I've slept."

"Well, if you're _sleeping,_ the pill is doing its intended job," Noah replied evenly, ignoring the fierce stare of his oldest friend. Rolling his eyes, he intoned, "I can't cure dreams, Dave."

"Noah," Dave groaned, scrubbing a hand over his whiskered jaw, "there's got to be something you can give me...some kind of dream blocker or something."

Sighing, Noah dropped down on the stool at the foot of the exam table. "Dave, I've run every physiological test I know to run. You're body is sound, my friend. I'm afraid it your psyche that might be damaged," he chuckled.

"Are you saying I'm a nut?" Rossi sputtered, his spine stiffening as he realized his doctor was not at all sympathetic to his current very-real plight.

"We already were aware of that, Davey," Noah returned dryly, arching a brow.

"I'm not crazy, Noah," Dave growled. "I'm sleep deprived. These damned dreams I keep having are going to be the death of me!"

"Which is why I'm referring you to a sleep therapist," Noah nodded, not bothering to look up at Dave. If he had, he'd have witnessed the aggrieved expression taking over his oldest friend's face.

"You're sending me to a fucking quack, Noah? That's your idea of a diagnosis...pass me off to some new age hippie?" Dave asked incredulously, his cheeks flushing with agitation. "Not fucking way," he shook his head furiously, barely resisting the urge to run screaming from the building. "Just prescribe me another pill...a sedative, this time. Something that will have me waking up next Tuesday, well rested and happy as a clam."

"No can do," Noah shook his head, still scribbling in his patient's chart. "I like my medical license, thank you very much. And Charlotte Dickens is not a new age hippie, as you put it. She's a much respected sleep specialist that concentrates in dream therapy."

"She's a obvious quack that's gonna charge me thousands of dollars to tell me I have mommy issues. I've heard about these fruit loops, Noah," Dave shook his head in disgust. "They're charlatans, out to make a quick buck."

"Listen, Ebenezer," Noah retorted, spinning on his stool to face his obstinate pal, "you're options are limited here. I can't find a medical reason for your problem. Which means the problem is up here," he stated, tapping a finger against his temple. "Dr. Dickens can help you analyze these dreams you're having and get to the root of the problem. I'm telling you, Davey, she's a well respected member of the medical community. I've got patients that swear by her."

"Tell me, are _those_ patients being medicated?" Dave grunted sarcastically, his earlier feelings of doom and gloom once again coming to roost.

"Say what you want, Scrooge," Noah shook his head, "but her record speaks for itself. Hell, Dave, what do you have to lose at this point?"

"My wallet," Dave muttered under his breath, crossing his arms defensively over his broad chest. "C'mon, Noah. There's gotta be something you could try without sending me to some witch doctor."

"Dave, I've run every test in the book. You're healthier than a man half your age," Noah returned, scanning the stubborn man's chart one last time. "This is NOT a physiological issue we're dealing with. Thus, it's out of my hands. You don't pay me enough to take on the job of your personal shrink."

"I don't need a shrink," Dave spat angrily, once again doubting his friend's medical training. Why the hell wouldn't the white coated man _listen _to him? He was a perfectly sane, rational man. He just needed to get rid of these pesky dreams and he'd be right as rain. There had to be a pill for that, didn't there? If they had a medication that could keep Mr. Happy playing for hours without a break, he could certainly find one that would allow him eight hours rest uninterrupted by dreams of the three former Mrs. Rossis, couldn't he?

Looking at his adamant friend, Noah shook his head. "What the hell are you so scared of, Davey? This woman is a board certified, card carrying physician sanctioned by the AMA and everything. The way I see it, you're desperate. And this woman promises most patients she can have them sleeping through the night, dreaming peaceful dreams, in four sessions or less."

"Is there a money back guarantee on that?" Dave snapped, his dark eyes flashing as he paced the length of his room. "All I need is for it to leak out to the media that David Rossi is seeing some head shrinking putz just when my new book is being released. They'll have a freakin' field day!"

"Dr. Dickens keeps her sessions entirely confidential," Noah said patiently, watching his rattled friend move around the room, his footsteps heavy against the linoleum. "Honestly, Dave, there's no shame in it. Not in this day and age."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dave paced back to the exam table, flopping back on it with a heavy sigh. "Fine," he said grudgingly, his resolve beginning to crumble. "Set the damn appointment up for me. I'll go."

Ripping a sheet of paper off his prescription pad, Noah grinned smugly. "Already did, ass hat," he declared, waving the paper at his buddy. "She's expecting you at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Don't be late. I had to call in a favor to get you that slot."

"I'll be there, Noah. You just better hope this works," Dave returned, glaring at his friend. "Or I really will need that suite you've been promising me at Bellevue Sanitarium."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: My co-author and I would like to announce that our core stories (Sunday and Monday weekly publications) will be on hiatus for the weekend after Thanksgiving (an American Holiday on November 25, 2010). Due to familial obligations, we do believe there will be a week break on those ongoing stories. We will continue to publish one-shots and shorter stories through the holiday week.**

**Also, we're drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****THREE**** DAYS LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and ****VOTE**** for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

**Want to win some free Christmas cash? We're giving away a $5 Amazon gift card to the 200th voter in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds ****Fanfic. net**** Awards (funded by the moderators). We have well over one hundred voters already, so who knows...you could be the 200th and win the awesome Amazon card!**

**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

**We also have a new interview with fellow author, Laurella. Please check it out.**

**And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you!**

**

* * *

**

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter 2**

David Rossi had always believed in being a prompt man. Hell, over the years, he'd even developed a propensity for showing up early, just to save himself from dealing with those irritating day to day last minute hassles. He'd never simply not shown up for an appointment in his life.

But, oh how he was tempted to do it now.

Staring up skeptically at the shallow steps of the stately brownstone housing the office of one Dr. Charlotte Dickens, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Which was all the proof he should have needed to convince him that he required this quack's services, he knew. But still, he was hesitant.

He wasn't fond of anyone, especially a stranger, poking around his psyche. He was a private man for a reason, after all. What was contained in his brain was for him and him alone.

Glancing at the gold Rolex adorning his wrist, he grimaced. He had five minutes to get inside. Idly, he wondered if, perhaps, he shouldn't remove the watch. No since flaunting to the charlatan inside the fact that he had money, was there? On the off chance that she _could_ actually cure the problem ailing him, knowing he was wealthy might end up prolonging his sessions.

And he really wanted to be in and out of this joint quickly, preferably with an FDA approved medication in his hand that would allow him to rest dream-free for at least sixteen straight hours. This damn sleepy condition was now wreaking havoc on his life...and quite frankly, his ex-wives had gotten enough satisfaction from doing that when he'd actually been married to them.

Torturing him in sleep just went beyond the pale. It had to stop. Now.

And hopefully before one of his colleagues killed him.

Just this morning, JJ, normally the most sane and rational person on the team, had threatened to murder him by her own hand if he snapped at her one more time. Jennifer Jareau had been the last holdout still speaking to him this week. And he couldn't deny, she'd have the right to bury a knife in his back. His grouchy, surly attitude had been the talk of the team for days. And the last thing he wanted to do was alienate the only woman that actually could still stand his company.

Frowning as a passerby bumped him from behind, he had to bite back an angry expletive as the woman brushed past him. It was his own fault, he thought grudgingly, He was the one standing here on the pavement attempting to take root. Heaving a heaving sigh, Dave straightened his shoulders and strode purposefully toward the steps.

He couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. It was official. He, David Rossi, was now seeking professional help.

From a quack.

XXX

David Rossi had been expecting many things when he'd walked into Dr. Charlotte Dickens dimly lit office. But what he'd actually found surprised him.

While he'd been expecting healing crystals, New Age music, and a guru-like so-called physician shrouded in flowing robes that screamed "Free Love", instead he was met with a sixtyish woman with steel grey hair clad in a very expensive tailored suit sitting behind a mahogany desk, peering at him over the rims of her bifocals.

"Mr. Rossi, I presume?" her cultured voice greeted him as the professional receptionist ushered him inside the airy office, her British accent only enhancing the entire ensemble.

"I am," he said gruffly with a terse nod, reserving his words for moments that deserved them.

Smiling, Dr. Dickens nodded as she steepled her fingers. "I can already see you're reluctant to be here, Mr. Rossi."

"So, you're a psychic, too? Do you charge extra for that?" Dave asked grimly, his voice filled with unspoken doubts regarding the good doctor's competence.

"Oh, good," Dr. Dickens sniffed in disdain. "A skeptic. No, Mr. Rossi, I'm not a psychic. Just a very astute judge of character...one that's already been well informed as to your doubts regarding my profession. Your general practitioner and I went to medical school together. He took great delight in briefing me on your...demeanor."

"Noah's a blabbermouth," Dave muttered as he cheeks flushed with uncharacteristic embarrassment, almost as if he had been outed in front of Sister Mary Catherine from middle school.

"Mmmm, I won't disagree with your assessment," Dr. Dickens murmured, gesturing toward a chair in front of her desk. "Won't you sit down?"

"What?" Dave smirked as he glanced around her office, "Not gonna put me on the couch, Doc?"

"Would you prefer a prone position, Mr. Rossi?" the doctor asked, arching one eyebrow in question.

"Hell, no," Rossi snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the good doctor. "That's what got me to your office in the first place."

Watching as her reluctant patient finally dropped into the nearby chair, Dr. Dickens cocked her head to the side as she asked, voice completely neutral, "Well, at least you admit that you might have a reason to be here after all."

"I'm here under duress. I want that duly noted in whatever files you're keeping on me," Rossi growled, his shoulders stiff as he leaned back against the surprisingly comfortable leather upholstery. Narrowing his eyes as he watched the doctor scribble on her notepad, he asked, warily, "What are you writing?"

Meeting his gaze head on, she carefully placed her pen at a perfect angle to her notepad, then tilted her grey head to the side. "Are you often this suspicious of others and their motives, Mr. Rossi?"

"Only when they give me reason to be," Rossi replied, his jaw clenching. "And for all I know, you're going to write a tell-all book about me and my ex-wives and end up doing an expose on Oprah."

"Rest assured that such a thing has never entered my mind," Dr. Dickens replied calmly, leaning back in her chair and steepling her fingers once again. "But the fact that you just brought up your ex-wives tells me that they might play a part in the reason you've deigned to darken my door. So, let's jump right to the heart of the matter, shall we, Mr. Rossi. Or do you prefer Agent?"

"Mister is fine," Dave groused, hopefully hiding the fact that he would prefer that no one associated with the Bureau ever find out that he was seeing a shrink.

"Yes, then, _Mr._ Rossi. What _exactly_ has brought you here to see me? Noah's case note indicates you've been having some trouble sleeping," she said, glancing at the faxed sheet of paper in the center of her orderly desk. "The sooner you share, the sooner we can hopefully find the root of all of your troubles."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: ATTENTION, READERS AND AUTHORS - we're rapidly drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****TWO**** DAYS LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

**Want to win some free Christmas cash? We're giving away a $5 Amazon gift card to the 200th voter in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Fanfic. net Awards (funded by the moderators). We have well over one hundred voters already, so who knows...you could be the 200th and win the awesome Amazon card!**

**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

**And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you! Your reviews and pms allow us to know if we're on the right track.**

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Three**

"Well," Dave drawled, barely resisting the urge to once again roll his eyes, "since you're a _sleep therapist_, I certainly hope that's why Noah sent me packing, bag and baggage to you."

Smiling again, Dr. Dickens narrowed her eyes. "Clever replies won't help me diagnose your ailment, Mr. Rossi."

"I'm having dreams," Dave growled, his lips tightening as he spoke. "Recurrent persistent dreams."

"About the ex-wives, I assume," Dr. Dickens prodded softly, settling back in her own oversize leather captain's chair.

"Yeah," Dave said shortly. "What's your cure for that, Doctor?"

"That depends on the reason behind the dreams," Dr. Dickens replied easily with a shrug of her thin shoulders. "Many times dreams are simply our subconscious' way of trying to work out a current problem or life situation occurring in the dreamer's life. Or, often, it's the mind's way of trying to deal with a past trauma. A dream can have many different meanings...some literal...some figurative."

"Great," Dave griped sarcastically, gripping the arms of his chair as he fought the highly insistent urge to vacate the premises, "If I wanted a psyche class, I'd have audited a class at Georgetown, Doc. Just tell me how I fix it and get a decent night's sleep."

"I can't," Dr. Dickens stated evenly, raising her eyebrows slightly as she stared across the desk at her newest patient.

"What?" Dave yelped, jerking up straight in the chair. "Look, Noah assured me that you were at the top of your field, lady."

"And I am," the doctor nodded slowly, her cool blue gaze raking him. "But I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Rossi. Nor am I omnipotent. You're going to have to give me more information to garner any form of educated conclusion for you. A lot more information."

"Such as?" Rossi snapped impatiently.

"Such as, are you still in love with your ex-wife?" the doctor asked, her question clipped and precise.

"Which one?" Rossi chuckled suddenly, enjoying the slightly scandalized look shining in the elder woman's eyes.

"How many have there been?" she asked, perplexed.

"Three."

"Three?" she echoed, tilting her head. Was this man toying with her? Was he not aware of the stern consequences of those who dared do such a deed?

"Three," Dave nodded solemnly, schooling his features into an unreadable mask. If the woman was such a professional, then she should be able to read his mind, shouldn't she?

"I see," Dr. Dickens nodded, making a note against her yellow pad. "And which former wife are you dreaming about?"

"Pick one," Dave said tersely, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his doctor's mouth twist.

"Pardon me?" she apologized politely. Surely, she'd misunderstood. Again.

"I'm dreaming about all of 'em, Doc. One a night. And they seem to be on a repeat cycle."

"Let me see if I understand, sir," Dr. Dickens said slowly, holding up a regal hand, the gold band glittering in the lights, "Your dreams are being haunted each night, by a different ex-wife?"

"Yep."

"Ah," Dr. Dickens breathed, making another note on the ever present pad. "I'm assuming these dreams are of a disturbing nature then?" she theorized, tapping her fountain pen against her notebook.

"Lady, awake or knocked out, seeing ANY of my exes isn't exactly a fun day at the park," Dave grumbled, dropping his head back against the chair.

"Well, then, Mr. Rossi, I do believe we have our work cut out for us," she nodded, carefully noting her patient's highly expressive body language. "And I believe we shall start your therapy by having you describe your first dream."

"Where do I start," Dave muttered with a long suffering sigh, his thoughts jumbled, the lack of sleep once again deciding to make its presence known.

"I would suggest the very beginning, Mr. Rossi. It's a very fine place to start," Dr. Dickens replied politely.

"Out of curiosity, you aren't trying to channel Maria von Trapp, are you?" Dave asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

"No, sir, I assure you, I am not," the doctor replied in a clipped voice. "My motivation for having you commence at the beginning is simple. A subject cannot hope to understand where he is going unless he can find where the journey began."

"And now, I'm dealing with the English version of 'Confucius Say'," Dave grunted, rolling his eyes, once again mentally chastising himself for ever trusting his buddy Noah. It was obvious his doctor had struck out with this referral.

"Mis-ter Rossi!"

Dave heard Dr. Dickens' imperious voice admonish, eerily reminiscent Sister Mary Catherine during his Catholic school boy days. Perhaps his earlier fears had been realized after all.

"Do begin," she ordered, watching as her patient winced.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Doc," Dave huffed, running a restless hand over his whiskered jaw.

"I would expect you to describe the first dream in as much detail as your mind can muster," she answered him evenly. "All dreams have meaning of some nature. Sometimes finding the source of the problem involves decoding the reverie."

"Sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus to me," Rossi complained, stretching his legs out as he kicked his heel against the plush carpet.

"Isn't that what local law enforcement officials say about profilers?" Dr. Dickens remarked, her tone challenging.

"Touché," Rossi replied, inclining his head slightly, her verbal epee reaching its mark. Perhaps this woman might have delved deeper into his psyche than he first realized.

"I'm waiting, Mr. Rossi," the doctor prodded expectantly.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, David Rossi swallowed hard as he realized that his palms were actually clammy. How in the freaking world did his ex-wives still have this power over him? How? HOW? His jaw clenched tightly, he muttered, "Hell, might as well get the worst one out the way first. She's apparently not happy just haunting my days. Now she's invaded my nights."

"Days? You mean you still have contact with this woman?"

Rolling his eyes, Rossi growled as his hands clenched at his sides, "Contact's a calm word for what I have with Erin. And ever since I willingly came back to the Bureau, I've been forced to have _contact_ with her almost every day."

Realizing that her patient was once again speaking in riddles that only he could understand, Dr. Dickens pursed her lips as she demanded, "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me as to who exactly this Erin is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: ATTENTION, READERS AND AUTHORS - we're rapidly drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****ONE**** DAY LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

**Want to win some free Christmas cash? We're giving away a $5 Amazon gift card to the 200th voter in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Fanfic. net Awards (funded by the moderators). We have well over one hundred voters already, so who knows...you could be the 200th and win the awesome Amazon card!**

**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

**And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you!**

* * *

**No Rest For The Wicked**

**Chapter Four**

"Erin Strauss was my second wife," Rossi spat out, his tone filled with longsuffering bitterness made deeper by years of animosity. "And in addition to being the Section Chief over our division, she's also taken up a night job of haunting my every other sleeping moment. She's taken a time share with the other two," he growled resentfully. "Hell, I run seven ways to Sunday to escape the old bat when I see her coming in the office. But let me put my head on a pillow and suddenly I'm channeling the worst moments of our marriage all over again…in triplicate."

Arching a brow as she made a quick notation on her handy notepad, Charlotte asked, "Perhaps your subconscious is attempting to tell you that you'd like to spend time with your ex-wife outside of the work setting. Is it possible that you still have unresolved feelings for Erin?"

"Unresolved..." Rossi choked, his eyes widening in disgruntled shock. "Are you kidding me?" Dave asked as he jerked his head up to glare across the desk. "That woman made my life a living hell for every minute of our three year marriage. In fact, I'm fairly certain our final showdown at the Paramus Mall went viral on YouTube, thanks to a few amused security guards on duty that day. You should check it out, Doc. I think it got its millionth hit a month or so ago. Believe me, the only _feeling_ I have is that of overwhelming joy that I'm finally free of her."

"Except, you're not," Dr. Dickens pointed out mildly, her pen sliding against her pad. "She still maintains a hold over you, doesn't she? And it stands to reason that you'd feel a form of resentment over that."

"Oh, I resent the hell out of her. And the only hold Erin has over me is in her own imagination. I could buy and sell her soul at the Bureau, and she knows it," Dave snapped, his dark eyes flashing as he fought down his obvious anger.

"Do you like having that kind of power, Mr. Rossi?" the doctor asked curiously.

"I sure the hell don't dislike it," Dave returned with a grim smile. "But I don't walk around lording it over her, if that's what you mean."

"Why not? You obviously have acrimonious feelings regarding the marriage," Dr. Dickens pointed out.

"Because, the mess our marriage devolved into wasn't completely her fault," Dave admitted grudgingly, dropping his gaze to his pants as he picked invisible lint from the pristine material.

"Ah," Dr. Dickens breathed.

Rolling his eyes again, Dave pursed his lips. "I hate it when doctors do that," he commented grouchily.

"What?"

"That whole "ah" thing...like they've had some kind of breakthrough...when all they're really doing is filling the air with the sound of their own superiority."

"Mmmm...what does...Erin, isn't it?" she asked, pausing as Dave nodded. "Yes, what does Erin do in your dreams, Agent Rossi."

"She takes me on a guided tour of our mutual past," Dave confided sullenly, barely resisting the urge to shiver with disgust at the thought.

"And what do you think that means?" Dr. Dickens asked quietly.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be here, would I?" Rossi retorted with a derisive snort. "Aren't YOU supposed to be telling me what all that means?"

"I would if I had a little more information," Dr. Dickens stated impassively. "What do you mean a tour?"

Huffing out an irritated breath, Dave muttered, "She shows me every mistake I ever made in our marriage...from our arguments on putting my career above hers to our inability to have children. She guides me to these...memories...and makes me relive them. And I swear to God, by the look on her face, she's enjoying showing me every moment. Much like she does in real life."

"I see," Dr. Dickens said noncommittally.

"You see _what_?" Dave groaned, barely resisting the urge to bang his fist on her desk and shake up her perfect world. Anything would be better than that smug, condescending tone that was grating on his very last nerve.

"Your subconscious wants to you to learn a lesson, Mr. Rossi," Dr. Dickens returned calmly before making another note against her pad. Her latest patient was turning out to be an intriguing case indeed. She could almost smell a journal article in the making.

"What lesson?" Dave ground out. "And does it end with me getting a decent night's sleep tonight?"

"Probably not," the doctor answered truthfully, eyeing the obviously agitated man sympathetically. "And the nature of the lesson is probably contained in the dreams you're having regarding your two other wives. Unfortunately," she said with a serene smile, "that's all the time we have for our session today."

"Are you kidding me?" Dave yelped, stiffening in his chair as he glanced down at his watch. "I thought you had a record for curing this type of thing!"

"I do, Mr. Rossi," she nodded. "Four sessions."

Closing his eyes, Rossi mentally counted to ten before growling, "When can I get my next session? You got anything for today?"

"No," Dr. Dickens said regretfully. "As interesting as I find your case, I'm booked solid for the rest of my day," she murmured, glancing down at her calendar. "But, I do have an appointment for tomorrow. Same time, same place. Shall I pencil you in?" she asked coolly, raising her eyes back to his.

Pressing his lips together, Rossi nodded jerkily as he rose to his feet. "You know, Doc...you and my second ex-wife have a lot in common," he said over his shoulder.

Unable to resist temptation, Dr. Dickens murmured, "Such as?"

"You both know how to grab a guy by his short and curlies," Rossi complained as he buttoned his jacket, his fingers jerking against the fabric as he wondered if it was possible to sue his therapist for malpractice after one visit.

And lips twitching, Charlotte Dickens merely inclined her head. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Rossi."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **

**THIS IS IT, FRIENDS - THE FINAL DAY TO CAST YOUR VOTE FOR THE FIRST ANNUAL CRIMINAL MINDS PROFILER'S CHOICE AWARDS ON FANFICTION. NET. YOU HAVE UNTIL 11:59 pm EST ON NOVEMBER 30, 2010 TO LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD! **

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**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

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* * *

**No Rest For the Wicked**

**Chapter Five**

Dr. Dickens watched with barely concealed humor as her first patient of the morning literally flopped himself into her guest chair. Her trained eyes easily noted the pinched wrinkles around his dark eyes, and the twitch in his left eye seemed to be more pronounced than the previous day. Watching closely as he seemed to drain half the cup of coffee in his hand, she asked, drily, "So, Mr. Rossi, do I even need to ask how your night went?"

Narrowing his eyes as he lowered the cup down to his lap, Rossi snorted, his mouth opening in retort before he could stop himself, "Hell, woman…"

"Language, Mister Rossi," the good doctor admonished, half for her humorous benefit. Her long conversation last night with her patient's referring physician had provided her with quite the detailed history, the internist's descriptions of the man before her once again making her doubt her own sanity at agreeing to have him as a patient. But she was a professional, she reminded herself with a nod. And if that meant that she had to take this man to raise for the coming sessions, then she fully intended to succeed in all of her endeavors.

Choking on his words, Rossi glared across the heavy desk as he muttered, "Great. Now she decides to channel my grandmother. Yesterday you were imitating my wife. Today, it's Nonna. What's next? My third grade teacher? And let me just go ahead and warn you. If you pull out a ruler and rap my knuckles, we're gonna have problems, lady."

"Speaking of your wife," the doctor interjected smoothly, well aware of this patient's penchant for dramatics, "Perhaps you'd like to share if you experienced any further dreams concerning her last night."

Flopping his head back against the top of the chair, Rossi winced as a soft spot of his skull came in contact with the hard wooden corner. Refusing to acknowledge the wound, Rossi once again glared at the woman that was determined to delve deep into his psyche as he snapped, "Which wife? The second left me alone, thank God, but the third one seemed determined to flip her tassels all over my precious pillow time."

Lifting an eyebrow, Dr. Dickens shook her coiffed head. "I'm sorry. The third? I don't believe you've mentioned her yet."

"Bubbles," Dave muttered, lifting his cup to his lips for a swift sip. Seeing the horrified face staring at him, her mouth slightly ajar, Dave extrapolated. "That was her stage name...she was an...entertainer."

"Of the adult variety, I assume," the doctor replied stiffly, her cheeks flushing a bit. Honestly, she was not paid enough to deal with the depravities of the American mind!

"Very adult," Dave agreed with a wicked smile, enjoying the effect he was having on the prim and proper woman. "I met Bubbles during a very inebriated night in Vegas during which I was celebrating my second divorce. Met her at the Crazy Horse and believe me, the joint lives up to its name," Dave continued, raising his cup in silent toast.

Clearing her throat delicately, Dr. Dickens asked, "And how long did your third matrimonial bond last, Mr. Rossi?"

"Well, that depends on what you measure," Dave shrugged casually. "We lived together forty-five fun filled days. We were married a year."

"A whole year," Dr. Dickens drawled, shaking her head as she glared in his direction. "One for the record books."

"There was only one area where Bubbles and I were compatible, Charlie," Dave sighed, propping one leg over the other and balancing his cup on his knee. "I can call you, Charlie, can't I?"

"No," Dr. Charlotte Dickens replied, her upper crust British accent clipped. "You most certainly may not."

"Why not?" Dave grunted, rolling his eyes at the rebuke in her voice.

"It's undignified," his doctor snapped, her eyes flashing. Of all the American gall, she silently fumed.

"For the rates I'm paying you, you'll get over it," Dave snickered, drawing another deep sip from his cup. "Look, between the sheets, Bubbles and I could light a fire...for about a month and a half. But, she was quite a bit younger than I and..."

"...you couldn't keep up?" Dr. Dickens asked sweetly, her arched brow belying her tone.

"What? No!" Dave growled, realizing what his therapist had implied. "I was _going _to say there wasn't exactly a lot of stimulating conversation to keep me interested. And once the sex wears off..."

"Stop there, Mr. Rossi," Dr. Dickens ordered imperiously, raising a quelling hand. "I might be reserved, but I _can _read between the lines."

"You sure?" Dave asked, cocking his head. Playing with the uptight Brit was a lot more fun this morning than he'd anticipated. And after the morning he'd had all ready...playing cat and mouse with the good doctor was just the therapy he needed. Maybe he owed ol' Noah a thank you after all.

"Positive," Dr Dickens spat through pursed lips. Breathing deeply, she said, her voice calmer, "So, you're telling me that while there was a physical attraction to your third wife, she wasn't exactly up to your par on the intellectual level."

"Bubbles was a good girl, but yes, that's what I'm saying," Dave nodded, meeting the doctor's eyes.

"Do you often see the women around you as sex objects, Mr. Rossi?" Dr. Dickens asked curiously, making a quick note on her file.

"Doc, are you asking me if I'm a dirty old man?" Dave growled, his hackles rising.

"What is that American expression?" Dr. Dickens asked, her eyes squinting as she tapped a finger against her chin. "Ah, yes. Something about, 'if the shoe fits...'"

"Look, I'm a red-blooded Italian man with a healthy sex drive. But, NO, I don't see women as sex objects. Hell, I'm not even..."

"Not even what?" Dr. Dickens prodded as her patient suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

"Not even...active...right now," he added hastily, his lips tightening as he felt the poised doctor appraising him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **

**Thank you to every single person that took their time to vote in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Awards. We are busily tabulating your votes and will announce the winners very shortly, as well as who won those coveted gift cards. We had several tight races and are proud to tell you that your response was overwhelming - over 170 voters! Again, congratulations to all our nominees!**

**In other news, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**

**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**

**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. **

**Happy Holidays!**

* * *

**No Rest For The Wicked**

**Chapter Six**

"And why is that?" the doctor asked evenly.

"Well, that all ties into last night's dream," Dave grumbled, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup.

"Do tell," Dr. Dickens invited, waving a graceful hand, well aware that he would probably proceed with our without her permission.

"Well, in my dream, Bubbles shows up and..."

"This is not going to be an inappropriate dream, is it, Mr. Rossi?" Dr. Dickens asked, skewering him with her eyes.

"Don't doctors take an oath about not judging?" Dave groused, his gaze meeting the disapproving doctor's.

"That easier said than done with some patients," Dr. Dickens replied easily, her lips pursing.

"It's not a sex dream, Charlie. Come down off the ceiling," Dave muttered.

"Please, do stop calling me that," Dr. Dickens grimaced, her fingers clenching tightly around her Mont Blanc pen.

Ignoring her, Dave forged on, "Look, in the dream, Bubbles shows up and tells me to come with her. And before I know it, she's showing me the last date I went on. Every single time."

"And who was your last date with, Mr. Rossi?" Dr. Dickens asked, intrigued. This new patient of hers had led quite an exceptional life. Perhaps she could stretch her original thought for a journal article into a full book….

"Well..." Dave hedged, for some unknown reason mildly ashamed.

"Mr. Rossi. Knowing _all _the pertinent facts is a necessary aspect of getting to the root of your problem," she reminded him.

"Fine," Dave sighed, sinking lower in his seat. "Her name was Bambi."

Sputtering on her own cup of Earl Grey tea, Dr. Dickens eyes widened. "Pardon men?" she choked, reaching for a napkin and wiping her lips delicately. "Did you just say Bambi? As in the children's Disney classic, "Bambi,"?"

"It's now what you think, Doc. Her real name was Sandra," Dave said, inexplicably feeling the need to defend his last choice of dining companions. "It was a bet."

"A bet?" she echoed disbelievingly.

"A bet," Dave nodded vigorously. Jeez, this doctor had displayed exactly the same reaction as JJ when he'd confided in her a month ago about his last fiasco of a date. Only his coworker nearly required medical attention when she'd choked on the milkshake she'd been drinking at the time. At least his doctor hadn't yet delivered a thirty minute lecture on his abysmal taste in the finer sex, he told himself with a mental grin. JJ had been livid...especially when she'd heard how the night had come about.

"Do go on, Mr. Rossi," Dr. Dickens sighed, silently preparing herself for what was sure to make her want to run screaming from her own suite of offices. Perhaps she should have invested in a supply of sedatives…for herself.

"Well, it's all actually Noah's fault," Dave said, deciding to throw his longtime friend under the bus. "We were out for a...gentleman's evening at a..."

"Gentleman's establishment?" Dr Dickens asked dryly, cocking her eyebrow as her eyes bored into her patient's across the table.

"Uhmm...yeah," Dave swallowed. "Anyway, Noah bet me that I couldn't get Bam...Sandra's phone number. One thing led to another and...well..."

"You married her?" Dr. Dickens gasped, her eyes widening dramatically.

"NO! Three times only," Dave said, jabbing three fingers in the air for emphasis. "I took her out. And that's where the dream comes in," he sighed, dropping his hand back to his lap.

Massaging her temple with one hand, Dr. Dickens gave Dave a withering look. "Do you often make it a habit to date empty headed twits because of a _bet, _Mr. Rossi?"

"You sound just like Jen," Dave sighed, leaning his chin against his fist.

"Jen? Another wife?" Dr. Dickens asked, her pen flying against the paper.

"Nope. I could only wish," Dave said, exhaling a long breath, completely unaware of his unconscious admission. "JJ's my best friend. Sort of. It's a long story."

"I believe that," Dr. Dickens nodded. Closing her eyes for a brief instant, she inhaled deeply. "The dream, Mr. Rossi...what was it?" she asked, almost dreading his answer.

"Oh, yeah," Dave frowned, having lost his train of thought. "Well, Bubbles...I mean, Stacy...that was her real name," Dave informed the doctor, "Stacy takes me back to the last date I had...every time she visits my dreams. And she shows me that night over and over again."

"Was there anything particularly special about that evening?" the doctor asked slowly.

"No. Not really. I took her to a nice restaurant and made small talk. She wasn't exactly Rhodes Scholar material, Doc. But," Dave flushed, pulling at his suddenly too tight collar, "I had my mind on other things."

"What things?" Dr. Dickens inquired tersely.

"Her chest," he answered truthfully, wincing at the affronted look the doctor gave him. "It was an exceptional chest," he stated defensively when the other woman opened her mouth, ostensibly to blast him to Kingdom Come. "Besides," he said quickly, "Bubb...I mean, Stacy, she ruins it. Every freaking time."

"Why?" Dr. Dickens ground out, fighting a moan of pain.

"Because, she shows me what the very nice chest looks like in a quarter of a century. EVERY damn time she visits my dreams. And it's not pretty!"

Taking slow, even breaths, Dr. Dickens fought the urge to hurl something at her patient. "So," she finally said, "Your third wife visits you in your slumber and shows you the present circumstance you live in."

"That's correct," Dave nodded readily, relieved that the good doctor had understood. "What does it mean, Doc?"

"Oh, it could mean many things, Mr. Rossi. But none of my many diagnoses at this time have any bearing on your sleeping patterns. It is my educated opinion that all your former wives are visiting your dreams for a common purpose. And perhaps your first wife holds that very coveted key. Unfortunately, we're out of time for today."

"So, again, you got _nothing_?" Dave asked impatiently, huffing out an affronted breath.

"I did not say that," Dr. Dickens said, peering down at her calendar again. "I have a session tomorrow at nine, Mr. Rossi. Shall I pencil you in?"

"Yeah," Dave said grudgingly, already feeling the dollars leaving his wallet. "Let's just hope tomorrow you have some better answers."

And the good doctor couldn't have agreed more. The sooner she rid herself of this particular patient, the better.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note:**_

_**It is our pleasure to announce the winners in the first 2010 Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Awards on ! All winners and winning fics were first nominated by their peers then chosen in final ballot by 179 voters.**_

_**We are thrilled with the outpouring of support that we received during this three month process from all the fellow authors/readers for this first-ever fanfic. net-based awards program! When we first discussed this idea, we were hopeful for at least fifty voters. As you can see, our expectations were more than just exceeded. We thank each and every one of you for making these awards successful. Without you, this could not have happened. Please visit "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum to view the winners thread! Congrats to all our nominees and winners! Working with each of you guys has been a pleasure.**_

_**As you may or may not know, Tonnie and I intend to make this an annual event and we're already looking forward to next year - after we recuperate, that is.**_

_**In other news, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Seven**

Walking down the busy sidewalk of the street her office was housed, Dr. Charlotte Dickens' eyes widened as she saw a man sitting on the steps leading to her building. Glancing at the watch on her wrist to ensure that she was, indeed, arriving at her usual time, she frowned. SHE was on schedule.

Her patient, however, was obviously not.

"Finally," David Rossi grumbled as he climbed to his feet, watching as his grey headed doctor approached. "I've been sitting here for half an hour," he complained loudly.

"Well, since you're forty-five minutes early for your appointment, I'm not surprised," Dr. Dickens replied, shoving her key inside the lock to her door as she shifted her leather attaché to the other hand. "I assume by your exceedingly, ahem, prompt arrival, that sleep once again evaded you, Mr. Rossi?" she asked, pushing open the door and walking inside, her patient dogging her heels.

"Oh, I slept, all right. And I had the worst dream yet. This one really throws me off, Doc. It's creepy," Dave shuddered, following the shorter woman through the hallway, the pathway familiar.

"Mr. Rossi, I haven't even prepared my morning tea yet," Dr. Dickens declared tersely as he trailed her into the waiting room of her practice. "Perhaps you'd have a seat and..." she trailed off as her patient stepped around her and walked into her inner office. "Or perhaps not," she muttered to herself, mentally steeling her nerves for another barrage from her latest challenge.

Unwrapping her shawl from her thin frame as she flipped on the overhead light, she noted that her patient had already taken his regular chair in front of her desk and was looking at her expectantly. Heaving a heavy sigh as she draped her wrap over the coat rack, she moved behind her desk. "All right, sir. Please continue," she said as graciously as she could, considering the fact that her morning routine had gone down the loo.

"Where do you want me to start?" Dave asked, settling in his newest favorite seat and running a frustrated hand around the nape of his tense neck.

"Do we really need to have this discussion again?" Dr. Dickens asked, her eyes glaring at him over the rim of her glasses.

"Did you get a good night's sleep, Doc?" Dave asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the professional.

"Continue, Mr. Rossi," the doctor demanded authoritatively.

"Look, last night Marina paid me a visit. She's paid me others...but last night was different," Dave shook his head, his heart beating faster as he remembered the vivid dream.

"And, am I to presume that Marina is your very first ex-wife?" the doctor asked haughtily, opening her patient's file as she spoke.

"Yeah," Dave nodded.

"Let's begin by telling me a bit about this woman. Am I to determine that she, too, told you to sod off?" Dr Dickens inquired briskly.

"Is that the fancy pants British way of asking if she told me to go get fucked on the way out the door?"

"Such lovely language to be found in this country," Dr. Dickens replied disgustedly, her lips pursing as she barely resisted rolling her eyes.

"You started it," Dave snorted unapologetically. "But to answer your question, no. Marina wasn't like that. She was a lady in the truest sense of the word."

Eyes popping wide at the respect she heard engraved in his deep voice, Dr. Dickens tilted her head. "My, my. I've only heard you talk about one other woman in that tone since you're first visit. This JJ," she noted, tapping his file.

"Both women have similarities," Dave mumbled, fidgeting in his seat as he suddenly felt a restlessness fill his body.

"Hmmm. Interesting. Tell me about Marina," the doctor urged softly, realizing that her patient might actually be closer to a breakthrough than she had first thought.

Smiling, Dave replied. "What can I say? I never deserved her. She was my first wife. And back then, I was more interested in my career than what it meant to be a husband. In hindsight, I've never been quite certain why she didn't just shoot me for some of the crap I pulled."

"Explain, please," she prodded.

Shrugging uncomfortably, Dave shook his head. "I wasn't a good husband to Marina. And it's sad, of all my wives...I think she was the only one that ever understood me. She accepted it. Until she couldn't anymore. Between the job...the booze..., she just got tired. We didn't stop loving each other. We just stopped loving each other_ enough_."

"Interesting," Dr. Dickens frowned. "And you said she shares characteristics with your best friend?"

"Yeah," Dave muttered, staring at the floor. "They both have that incredibly kind, forgiving heart...they both have the patience of a saint...neither one of them has ever been tolerant of my ego."

"Which I gather from my limited exposure to you is considerable," Dr. Dickens remarked bluntly.

"Gee thanks, Doc," Dave grumbled.

"So, you bear no ill will towards your first ex-wife," the doctor commented, ignoring his belligerent tone.

"God, no," Dave said, waving a hand in the air. "We were kids when we married. We didn't even know who the hell we were going to end up being. Marina has gone on to remarry a great guy and they've been married almost a quarter of a century. Plus, there's the added benefit that I don't pay her alimony."

"Well, let's steer this locomotive back on the proverbial tracks. What happens in the dream starring your Marina?" Dr. Dickens queried, finding herself enthralled by the story. "You stated that it was...what was your word? Creepy?"

"Yeah," Dave nodded, sighing audibly. "Terrifying. Marina was trying to show me the future, I think," Dave murmured, staring off into space.

"The future, you say," Dr Dickens replied.

"Yeah, she kept showing me the same scene...over and over. She was quite insistent that I keep looking at it, over and over again," Dave explained, feeling a chill creep up his spine.

"And the scene was?"

"It was Christmas. And there was a bassinet set up in my living room with the most beautiful baby asleep in it. And there was this woman in a white robe...but..."

"But?" Dr. Dickens echoed, leaning forward.

"I couldn't see her face! I couldn't hear her voice. And Marina just kept babbling about how _she..._this woman...was the one I needed. And if I didn't get it together, I was going to miss my chance. Over and over. I've never been called an Italian putz so many times in my life," he shook his head.

"And you have no clue who this woman was?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at her patient, her tone slightly chiding.

"I told you. I couldn't see her. The features were...I don't know...distorted," Dave huffed, irritated with the memory. It was as if he felt he should _know_ this woman, but he couldn't place her. "She felt familiar, though...really familiar. But, I have no clue who she is or what it's all supposed to mean."

"I do," Dr. Dickens declared with a superior smile, arching one brow as she leaned her elbows on her desk.

"You do?" Dave asked in amazement. Finally an answer! "What?"

Taking a deep breath, she began to explain. "Your subconscious is trying to send you a very clear message, Mr. Rossi."

"I got _that_ part, Dr. Doom," Dave muttered.

Clearing her throat, Dr. Dickens shook her head. "Your subconscious mind is coalescing all three of your former wives to deliver a very distinct message. Each wife is showing you, in turn, what you've done wrong, what you're doing wrong...and what you stand to lose if you don't correct your errors and continue to do wrong. And you, Mr. Rossi," she said, jabbing a finger in his direction, "_know _who this woman is. And if you can get her to agree to simply sleep beside you tonight, I can guarantee you a good night's sleep this eve."

Blinking rapidly as he tried to digest her diagnosis, Dave growled, his patience severely tested, "Who?"

"Your JJ, sir. She's your key."

"You're saying that I have romantic feelings for JJ?" Dave asked, his stomach churning at the simple revelation of what, somewhere, he'd already known. "And that if I can convince her to sleep beside me tonight...it'll let me go a night dream-free?"

"I'd stake my formidable reputation on it," Dr. Dickens nodded.

"But what if I can't convince her?" Dave asked desperately.

"Then to borrow one of your Americanized expressions...you be fucked, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**No Rest For the Wicked**

**Chapter Eight**

Striding purposefully down the corridor toward Jennifer Jareau's office, David Rossi focused on the goal before him. There was no room for failure. The good doctor had been very clear about that - right before she'd booked what would very hopefully be his final appointment with her tomorrow morning.

Barely sparing the time it took to knock on her door, Dave didn't bother waiting for a reply. She couldn't say no...not to anything...his sanity depended on it.

"Dave!" JJ said in surprise as her office door bounced against the wall and her frantic looking friend stepped inside. "What are you..."

Pointing a finger at me, Dave announced without preamble, "You have to sleep with me!"

Lifting one eyebrow as she stared, shocked, at him across the room, JJ finally found her tongue. "I'm fairly certain that's a form of sexual harassment in all fifty states, Dave."

Shaking his head furiously, Dave frowned. "Not like that! At least, not yet!" Dave babbled. "You just have to _sleep _with me. Then we'll know if she's right!"

Eyebrows lifting to her scalp, JJ cocked her head, her doubts about her friend's sanity reaching all time highs. "Dave, are you medicated, right now?"

"I wish," Dave moaned, dropping into a vacant chair in front of her desk. "She refuses to give me any drugs," he grumbled, his fist clenching and unclenching. "Damned stingy if you ask me."

Shaking her head in confusion, JJ asked carefully, "Who, Dave?"

"My doctor...Dr. Dickens. She says that you're the one my sleeping mind wants and if you're there I won't dream. So, we have to try it, JJ. I can't face another night with Erin, Bubbles and Marina," he begged, his dark eyes pleading for a small measure of mercy. "Say you'll do it, Jen. Please?"

"I...," JJ faltered, seeing the desperation staring her in the face. Deciding that questioning him about those three women could wait, she asked, warily, "Platonically sleep together, right?"

"Yep."

And heaving a great sigh, JJ nodded. "Okay, in the interest of preserving our team's sanity...we'll try it."

And lifting his head to the ceiling, David Rossi muttered gratefully, "Thank you."

JJ would never be sure if his thanks were directed at her. Or the Almighty.

**/*/**

Ten hours later, Jennifer Jareau stood in the oversized foyer of the home that belonged to the man that had been starring in her secret fantasies for longer than she cared to admit. Why she had ever agreed to this obvious convoluted plan, she would never know. But here she was….for better or for worse.

From the moment Rossi had left her office earlier that morning, she had developed sudden doubts, her fears of sinking too deeply under his spell coloring her every thought. But those doubts had been overridden by the niggling desire to just have his arms around her…no matter what the reason. She knew he was the Bureau's answer to Hugh Hefner…but she also recognized the silver lining behind his dark cloud. And she knew, somehow, that she wanted the opportunity to at least investigate the possibilities…whatever they may be.

And that scared her to her very soul. This is what you get, Jareau, when you stray from the straight and narrow!

He had been the proper gentleman so far, actually seeming thankful when she had showed up on his doorstep, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder and her wariness firmly in place. And she planned on maintaining that form of protection for the rest of the evening.

Studiously maintaining her gaze on his taut face, she crossed her arms over her chest as she asked, voice tight, "So would you mind telling me again exactly why we're doing this?"

Shrugging his shoulder in a manner that belied the unknown hours of trauma drama he had been experiencing, Rossi said drily, "Because otherwise, I'm obviously going to lose my mind. You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you, JJ?"

Her eyes dropping as she tracked his jerky movements, JJ shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. "I don't think I can be responsible for years and years of whatever it is that has contributed to your obviously fractured psyche, Dave."

"That damage's done," Rossi agreed, gesturing her further inside, almost giddy with the thoughts of putting his dreams to bed once and for all….literally and figuratively. "But I can damn sure try to do something about the future. And that starts with a good night's sleep."

"Dave," JJ sighed as she trailed him through his spacious foyer and up the stairs to where she presumed his bedroom was, "Are you absolutely certain that you understood this so-called therapist correctly?" she asked for what she figured to be the tenth time in the past twelve hours.

"Yep," he nodded, striding purposely toward his open bedroom door. "Her prescription for slumber was loud and clear," he said over his shoulder. "And you're it, babe."

Cocking her head as she stood in the doorway to his bedroom, JJ watched as Dave grabbed his pajamas from the bottom of the seemingly large bed. "You don't waste any time at all, do you?" she snorted, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Lifting his head to meet her eyes across the room, he shook his head. "Sweetheart, I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in longer than I wanna think about. I'm desperate."

"Dave, this plan of Dr. Dickens sounds like..."

"A pile of crap?" Dave asked evenly, readily nodding his head in agreement. "But, what if it isn't? What if she's right and you're the one?"

"The one what?" JJ asked in exasperation, suddenly wondering if she had been transported to some strange alternate universe where up was down…bad was good…and sleeping with David Rossi was not against every moral fiber in her body!


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Nine**

Waving a hand at her, immediately dismissing her question, Dave shook his head. "Don't worry about it, babe. You go ahead and get changed in here. I'll take the guest bath and meet you back in here in five. Trust me, if this works, I'll insist Dr. Dickens explain it all to you in tomorrow's session," he explained, moving toward the bedroom door again with obviously happy steps, ready to get this night underway.

"Wait! Session? I'm not going to the therapist with you, am I?" JJ yelped as he began to close the door.

Sticking his head back into the room, Dave replied innocently, "Didn't I mention that? Tomorrow's a joint session."

"But I'm not sick!" JJ argued, her subconscious reminding her that she very well might be losing her own mind after all. She had agreed to this little situation, hadn't she? Perhaps this was the universe's way of providing her with access to a board-certified professional who could recommend the perfect drug to wipe her mind completely free of this fiasco!

"Tell it to the doc," he called out before closing the door on her shocked face. And staring at the closed door, JJ wondered if she, too, was going to need intensive therapy by the time David Rossi finished his complicated recovery.

But now was not the time to dwell on such things, she told herself as she glanced back down at the king-sized bed that took up almost half of that side of the room. She wanted to get this night over with, didn't she? That meant that she needed to be ready for whatever was coming next.

Quickly slipping into her flannel pajamas, which covered her from neck to ankle, JJ carefully folded her day clothes and placed them precisely in her go bag. Staring at the oversized bed once again, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how many women had been contestants in Rossi's very own version of mattress Olympics. Knowing him, he'd probably gold-medaled in every category! Biting her lip, she swallowed hard as she fought the urge to run screaming out of the house, her sanity warring with her heart in the battle of good judgment.

Hearing a slight tap on the door, JJ jerked suddenly as a hinge creaked, turning just in time to see Dave's smiling face framed in the doorway.

"All set in here?" he asked, rubbing his hands briskly as he sauntered back into his bedroom and toward his favorite side of the bed.

"Ready as I'll ever be," JJ muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him tug at the spread and pull a pillow up against the headboard.

"That's the spirit," he replied drily, motioning toward what he had already began to think of as "her" side of the bed. "Go ahead, babe. I promise I won't bite."

Reaching out a tentative hand, JJ snorted as she jerked the pillow up, holding it in front of her. "Just tell me again, Dave, that this is just two friends sharing a bed, right? No strings and no hanky panky, right?"

"Trust me when I say this," Rossi replied, his hand pressed to his t-shirt covered heart, "All I want is to wake up in the morning, hear the birds sing, and not remember a single freaking dream from the entire night. My motives are as pure as the driven snow."

Frowning down at the mattress again, JJ sighed.

"What?" Dave asked, watching JJ's unhappy eyes level on the bed. "Don't worry, Jen, it's a good firm mattress."

"I wouldn't expect any less from a bedroom Olympian champion," JJ muttered under her breath, resolutely climbing onto the fabled Rossi playing field.

Eyes widening as his keen ears picked up her low complaint, Dave hurriedly assured her, "Why does everybody think that? I can promise you, Jen, you're the first woman that's ever slept in this bed...with or without me."

Surprised, JJ looked up. "You don't need to lie to me, Dave."

"I'm not!" Dave yelped indignantly, his eyes widening as he felt his honor being impugned. "I am not a Don Juan!"

"And Clinton didn't inhale either," JJ said through pursed lips. "Or have sexual relations with that woman," JJ mocked, jerking the bedspread over her legs.

"I've never lied to you," Dave retorted tersely, climbing in bed and yanking his own covers over him as he flopped against his pillows and reached an arm out to twist off the bedside light.

They passed the next several minutes in tense silence, each listening to the sound of the other's breathing before JJ finally whispered, "Were you serious?"

"About?" Dave rumbled in the darkness, banging his fist against his pillow as he attempted to force the resistant filling into a more sleep-conducive shape.

"Don't play dumb," JJ muttered, flipping onto her side to glare at him. "You know what I'm talking about."

"If you're referring to your disbelief that I haven't shared my bed with another woman in the recent past, then, yes, I was completely serious. And truthful," he added pointedly.

JJ spent another minute absorbing his factual statement, her body slowly relaxing under the weight of that new knowledge. "Okay," she whispered.

"Can I ask a question?" Dave asked after a moment of complete silence.

"Yeah," JJ whispered back.

"What mattered to you? That you thought I was lying or the fact that there might have been another woman in this bed before you?" Dave asked, his deep voice soft in the dim bedroom. And after a few heartbeats, he wondered if he'd crossed some invisible line in the mattress when she remained quiet so long.

"Both," her hushed voice confided, her words coming hesitant in the darkness. "Although I don't know why," she muttered, her voice confused.

Smiling and reaching for her small hand in the darkness, Dave murmured, "Perhaps we can convince my therapist to offer us a group rate."

And groaning, Jennifer Jareau closed her eyes.

And so did David Rossi.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**In other forum news, please check out our newest discussion thread, "Serious vs. Light - Which gets the most response?" It is a discussion of serious vs light stories and the response they get from readers. We also have new interviews with Clarebones and musicxlife4 up for your reading pleasure.**_

_**Also please check out the discussion thread entitled, "The Fine Line Between T and M ratings". There's a great ongoing discussion there, too.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, favoriter, and alerter that enjoys our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Ten**

JJ pushed the purse strap higher on her shoulder and cast a glare out of the corner of her eye at the man walking beside her. Never in her life had she suffered from insomnia...until last night, and it was all David Rossi's fault. Damn him! All night she had tossed and turned and tried to shut her mind off while he had slept like a baby. So deep in sleep, he had gone quiet in mid-sentence and never moved. Not once. Not even a snore escaped him. She would know; she watched him. Every breath in and out. And the pauses in between.

And to add insult to injury, he had the nerve to wake up in a great mood!

Now he was dragging her to visit his shrink when she would rather be in bed, fast asleep. Why she had to meet someone who told her co-worker that he had to sleep with her to ease nightmares was way beyond her educated comprehension.

It didn't make sense and in her sleep deprived brain, it made even less sense than usual.

A large yawn overwhelmed her and threatened to knock her off balance. Casting another glance at the middle aged man nearly skipping alongside of her, she wondered how she had gotten dragged into this quandary, all of which was David Rossi's doing. He better have a hell of an explanation...after she took a much needed and well deserved nap. Damn him!

For David Rossi's part, he felt like a new man, and he wasn't afraid to tell the world about it. He had a spring in his step, a whistle on his lips, and a song in his heart for the first time in...forever.

Gazing upward into the early morning clear blue skies, he offered JJ a silent thank you. The birds were singing...the fresh air was singing in and out of his lungs and he owed it all to the woman walking at his side. Talk about the answer to his prayers. And his nightmares. He was cured! No more horrible dreams taunting him in the dark of night. No more ex-wives mocking him in his sleep.

And most importantly, no more sessions with the British brainy import. He was heading over today to let Dr. Dickens know that he no longer required her services. Her job with him had been accomplished.

Of course, convincing JJ that she would need to play a huge role in his upcoming nights might be a bit of a sticky wicket. But with her goodnight confession last evening, he hoped that wouldn't prove to be the difficulty he'd originally thought. Staring into her perplexed eyes last night, he'd drawn a few conclusions of his own...chief among them: his heart wanted Jennifer Jareau. For keeps.

When he'd woken this morning with her curled into his side, his arms wrapped protectively around her, he had experienced a feeling so right that, even now, he still couldn't describe it in any coherent way. Not that it mattered...he knew what or WHO he wanted now. And she was right beside him.

"Babe?" he asked as they reached the sidewalk leading up to the now familiar brownstone housing Dr. Dickens office. "You okay? You seem a thousand miles away," he commented softly, his hand taking her elbow gently and turning her to face him as he noted the dark circles underneath her eyes. Frowning, he tilted her chin upwards. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No," JJ retorted tersely, staring accusingly at him as she stifled another yawn, "I didn't. And it's all your fault, Rossi. You and your damn ideas."

"Ah, ah, ah," Dave shook his head, wagging a finger in front of her face. "It wasn't my idea, remember? It was hers," he said jabbing a finger toward the wide door to the building.

"Right now, I'm wondering if this was all some intricate plan to get me in your bed," JJ grumbled under her breath, her eyelids drooping with more than just fatigue.

Sighing heavily, Dave wrapped his hand around JJ's slender wrist. "C'mon," he huffed, dragging her toward the building. "I'm not even going to try and defend myself. I'm going to make her do it for me," he growled, fiercely glaring toward the door.

"Dave!" JJ growled, dragging her feet. "Wait! I'm not sure I feel comfortable hearing about the three former Rossi women...hearing about your sordid past isn't exactly one of my favorite hobbies."

"Sorry, babe. No choice. I think I finally get it," he muttered, pulling her along in his wake. "To get to my future, you and I have to face my past. That's what they were trying to tell me."

"Have you lost your mind? Who was trying to tell you WHAT?" JJ yelped, tripping behind him and falling against him.

Turning and catching her as she fell forward, Dave wrapped his arms solidly around her. "JJ, please, just bear with me a few more minutes and we'll straighten this all out."

"But there is no you and I," JJ sputtered, her mind reeling as she melted against him, letting him support her as she tried to find her footing again. "Is there?" she asked, her addled mind refusing to process anything else.

"There will be," he assured her confidently, twisting her in front of her and giving her a gentle shove toward Dr. Dickens office.

Reaching around her to shove open the office door, Dave half lifted her over the threshold despite her very loud vocal protest.

"Mis-ter Rossi!" Dr. Dickens authoritative voice said loudly as he entered her office. "What is the meaning of this? Tell me that you haven't kidnapped this woman," she said, gesturing at JJ as she rounded on Dave, serving him a resounding slap to his chest.

"Tell her!" Dave ordered, blocking the doorway, one hand braced on either side of the door frame.

"Pardon?" Dr. Dickens snapped.

"She doesn't believe me...or she doesn't understand..." Dave babbled, wincing as JJ's heel came down against his instep. "Now, explain it all to her before she maims me for life," Dave choked through the pain.

Inhaling deeply, Dr. Dickens grimaced as the beautiful young blonde companion of her current patient planted the tip of her pointed shoe sharply in David Rossi's shin. "I assume this is the much lauded JJ," she drawled, silently approving of the young tempest's inner fire. She'd be more than a match for her often pompous patient. He'd certainly proved worthy of a sound thrashing during the limited time since she'd made his acquaintance.

Pausing in mid-thump to Dave's chest, JJ turned, her eyes narrowing on the fine-boned older doctor with the coifed hair. Tilting her head, she whispered, "So you aren't a figment of his over-used imagination? He was telling me the truth."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Just a reminder, December 25th is right around the corner. Everyone that signed up for the CM Christmas Fic Exchange, please remember your stories. We want this to be a WONDERFUL gift experience for all involved. If you have any questions, feel free to pm either myself (ilovetvalot) or tonnie2001969.**_

_**In other forum news, please check out our newest discussion thread, "Serious vs. Light - Which gets the most response?" It is a discussion of serious vs. light stories and the response they get from readers. We also have new interviews with Clarebones and musicxlife4 up for your reading pleasure.**_

_**Also please check out the discussion thread entitled, "The Fine Line Between T and M ratings". There's a great ongoing discussion there, too.**_

_**Finally, if any of you have any idea for issues/activities that you'd like to see "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum tackle in the form of discussion threads and/or challenges, please let us know. We want to bring you all some really fun threads in the New Year!**_

_**As always, thank you to every reader, reviewer, and person that favorites or alerts one of our stories. Hearing from each of you means a great deal to each of us. We truly value your thoughts and opinions. Now, on with our story!**_

* * *

**No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Eleven**

"I am very real, I assure you, Ms. Jareau," Dr. Dickens reassured her with a serene smile. "Although I have no idea what he told you."

Swallowing tightly, JJ's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she watched the regal woman advance across the carpeted floor toward him. Backing up against Dave's chest, JJ breathed, "You didn't tell me that she looked like Queen Elizabeth."

Momentarily distracted from the painful blows JJ had delivered, Dave snapped his fingers. "That's it! That's who she looks like...a grey headed Queen Elizabeth," he nodded, his hand sliding around JJ's waist.

Looking between the two occupants of her office, Dr. Dickens murmured, "For the sake of all parties, I'm going to assume that's a compliment and choose to move forward. Please," she said, gesturing behind her, "Come in and take a seat," she suggested, already moving back to her position behind her desk.

"You soooo owe me for this," JJ hissed under her breath as Dave placed a proprietary hand against her lower back and guided her toward the visitor chairs.

"The Queen has excellent hearing," Dr. Dickens said dryly, staring down at her patient's file. "And hopefully, this will be a wonderful memory you'll look back on in years to come," she said with another smile at the younger woman. "I'm assuming from the lack of bags underneath your eyes, Mister Rossi that my diagnosis proved to be accurate?"

"What diagnosis?" JJ yelped, looking from Dave to the doctor behind the polished desk.

"Entirely," Dave nodded with a satisfied smile, leaning back contentedly in his favorite chair. "Now, you just need to convince her," he said, jerking his head toward JJ, "that you aren't a quack."

"I don't think so," Dr. Dickens replied, her eyes widening. "That would be _your _job, sir. My function was merely to show you the reason behind your dreams. I've done that. My work here is done."

"Not unless she believes it, too, Doc," Dave retorted, leaning forward in his seat. "Because I'm right back here tomorrow if this woman doesn't believe the mumbo jumbo you fed me."

"I beg your pardon," Dr. Dickens gasped, unsure whether she was more offended by the notion of spending another session with the vexing man before her or that her science had just been insulted and equated to mumbo jumbo.

"What mumbo jumbo?" JJ frowned, her head twisting back and forth as Dave and the doctor traded glares. "What are you talking about?" JJ asked, slapping Dave's arm.

"Ask her," Dave ordered, flipping his hand toward the regal woman currently skewering him with her eyes.

"Ma'am?" JJ asked weakly, turning her gaze toward the doctor. "Could you clarify any of this for me? Please?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Dr. Dickens looked sympathetically at the other woman. "For you, I shall try. Mostly because I pity you, dear. This man," she said, turning her piercing eyes toward her patient, "is not a challenge I'd wish on anyone."

"Get to the point, Doc," Dave demanded, his tone tight.

"Please?" JJ said, shooting Dave a dirty look.

"Please," Dave said obediently.

"Interesting," Dr. Dickens murmured, making a note on her pad.

"What?" Dave asked sarcastically.

"You listen to her," Dr. Dickens replied with a quick glance between the two. "Almost instantaneously."

"Well, yeah," Dave grunted, rubbing his sore arm, "Did you see the power behind her punches?"

"I did," Dr. Dickens said with approval, once again sizing up the petite blonde.

"Ma'am, please," JJ interrupted, growing more confused by the moment. "Could you please just explain to me what kind of revelation you arrived at that Dave coercing me into sharing his bed last night?"

"Yes, of course," Dr. Dickens nodded, dropping her pen back to her desk blotter and concentrating her attention on the other woman. "It's simple, actually. Your Mister Rossi has spent the last several weeks being plagued by dreams containing each of his ex-wives. Evidently, they alternate nights, isn't that right, sir?"

"Yeah," Dave nodded, feeling JJ's surprised eyes on his face. While he and the woman next to him had shared several intimate details with each other concerning their lives, he'd never fully explained what had been happening to him these last weeks.

"Every night?" JJ whispered to him, frowning.

"Yep," Dave nodded. "Go on, Doc."

"At any rate, Mr. Rossi was being plagued by these dreams for a very specific reason. His subconscious chose his ex-wives as representatives because each could fill a very specific need. His second wife showed him his sordid, and often scandalous, past. His mistakes...his pitfalls. His third wife showed him his present. How he has continued to choose to spend time with the wrong sort of woman."

"Once!" Dave quickly interjected. "And I did NOT sleep with her," he said, shooting JJ a near frantic look.

"Shut up," JJ muttered, her fingers reaching out to pinch his wrist. "I already told you that I believed you. Let the doctor talk."

Watching as her patient quickly clamped his lips together, Dr. Dickens gave the other woman silent kudos. "Hmmm," she hummed, making another note.

"What about his first wife?" JJ asked as she watched the doctor penciling against her pad.

"Oh, she was the one most connected to you, Ms. Jareau," the doctor said, lifting her head to meet JJ's widened eyes.

"Me?"

"Yes, Mr. Rossi's first wife bore the message for the most important dream. She showed him his future. Or, a potential future if he paid attention to the dreams of the other two ex-wives."

"I don't understand," JJ shook her head, suddenly remembering the story of another blonde who had encountered a very strange convoluted world. And if she remembered correctly, there was a confusing queen in that tale, also.

"She showed me you, Jen," Dave stated softly, reaching out and squeezing JJ's hand.

"She did not!" JJ automatically denied, her mouth going dry as she tried to jerk her hand away.

"Actually, she showed him a distorted face," Dr. Dickens corrected. "I, however, upon hearing several references to you," she said, tapping Dave's file, "identified you as the faceless woman."

"You talked about me?" JJ said crossly, frowning at Dave. "Without my permission?"

"Not intentionally. I didn't even see it until...damn it, Jen...I can't be held responsible for what I dream...or the fact that it's you that cures my nightmares."

"Can so," JJ argued belligerently.

Clearing her throat, Dr. Dickens said softly, "In short, Ms. Jareau, the ghosts of ex-wives past, present and future paid Mr. Rossi a visit to inform him that he was in love with you. It was his subconscious' way of introducing him to reality."

Jaw dropping, JJ jerked her head toward Dave. "Is she on the level?"

"Yep," Dave nodded slowly.

"That can't be right," she whispered, leaning toward him. "I'd know if you loved me. I see you every day!"

Sighing heavily, Dave stared at the dream doctor across the desk. "Start over and convince her again," he ordered.

"Ah, no," Dr. Dickens drawled slowly, shaking her regal head. "I'm a _sleep_ therapist, Mr. Rossi. And I have cured your problem. I believe you might need another physician in my practice," she smiled, silently grateful, "Dr. Phil McCaw on three will be eager to help you both. He's a relationship therapist. I am exceedingly pleased to say that _my_ work here is done."

And as Jennifer Jareau and David Rossi looked from the doctor to each other, one thing was sure.

The fun was just getting started.

**Finis**


End file.
